


i want you and i want him

by losers-to-lovers (missberryisbest)



Series: Apple Candy Fic Series [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Jealous Richie Tozier, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Stan is a jerk and Richie is a jealous dick, Talk of Oral Sex, background bill/mike and ben/bev, but still i'm here for it, but we have pining and shit to get through first, cumming in pants, established eddie kaspbrak/stanley uris relationship, eventual streddie is coming, not exactly healthy, throuple dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:09:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23869546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missberryisbest/pseuds/losers-to-lovers
Summary: College AU where Eddie/Stan is an established relationship and Richie is jealous af - he wants Eddie and wants him bad, but after a few encounters Richie isn't so sure that the only boy he wants is Eddie, maybe he wants both of them. The question is, could either of them, but especially Stan with his buttoned up personality and boundary issues, want Richie back?
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Series: Apple Candy Fic Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720219
Comments: 41
Kudos: 87





	1. i wanna touch what he touched

It was the first official movie night of the ‘Losers Gang’, as Bill had dubbed their group when he saw just how cheap the alcohol everyone brought to the house was. Everyone was there except for Stan, which Richie had pretended to be upset about for exactly three minutes before throwing himself at Eddie and hugging him tightly, definitely not using the move as an excuse to bury his head in the curly brown hair and take a deep sniff. That would be weird, heh, after all - Eddie had a boyfriend. 

_A boyfriend who doesn’t even care enough to be here for movie night,_ Richie reminded himself as he filled a couple of cups with a mix of cheap champagne and orange juice for Eds and himself, before giving in to Bev’s demands and handing his cup off to her and going back to the kitchen to make yet another drink so that he had one. 

Anyways, the night was going great. Pizza had been ordered and devoured, the group had migrated fully into the living room, and Mike and Bill were currently fighting over what movie to watch.

Richie allowed the gentle arguing and the sight of Eddie curled up on the recliner in the soft light of Netflix home screen to lull him into a false sense of security. He even thought about untangling himself from where he was sprawled on the floor, head resting against Beverly’s leg, and squeezing in next to Eddie on the chair - under the guise of the floor being uncomfortable, of course. After all, Ben and Bev were cuddled up in the loveseat and Bill and Mike were lounging across the couch, taking up all the space. _There simply isn’t anywhere else to sit_ , Richie imagined saying, almost able to smell Eddie’s apple shampoo and feel the heat of the beautiful boy’s body next to him, even though he hadn’t yet moved. _Surely Stan would understand, Eddie, if he were here_. 

Then in a single moment everything was fucking ruined as shit. Rich heard the front door open and close, and a voice shout out - 

“Honey, I’m home!” Stan called from the entryway.

Eddie lit up like a goddamn christmas tree, and Richie’s heart sank to the floor.

 _Great_ , Richie thought, _the boyfriend is back_. His mood soured even more as Eddie sat up straighter in his chair, patting his hair and wiggling in place. Just waiting for fuckin’ Stanley to come in.

“Babe” Eddie said, voice happier than it had been the entire evening, “we’re all in the living room!”

“Coming,” Stan said. “Just let me go change.”

“You’re gonna go all the way upstairs without kissing me first?” Eddie pouted, and a laugh came from the hallway. 

“Never,” Stan called back.

 _Never_ , Richie thought to himself, in a mocking tone. 

“I thought he was working late,” Richie grumbled quietly, thinking that no one would be able to hear.

“Nope,” a voice said directly to Richie’s left. Rich jumped and looked, and sure enough, there was Stan, still in his black work clothes, just standing there being tall and put together in the doorway. Annoyingly attractive, all blonde haired and blue eyed - the man who got to touch Eds whenever (and wherever) he wanted to. _With his matching socks and his stain-free shirt._

“A little bird told me we were having a movie night, so I traded with Patrick and got off early.” Stanley continued, looking at Richie in a way that made Rich worry he was seeing too much.

“Lucky us,” Richie went on, but Stan wasn’t paying attention to him anymore, he was waltzing in front of the TV and crossing over to Eddie, who had his arms outstretched, his sweater rising up a bit to show off his tan belly as Stan pulled him up into a brief but dirty kiss.

 _Yep_ , Richie thought, scowling as the tall blonde tried to remove Eddie's tonsils with his tongue, _evening officially ruined_. Honestly, Richie kind of wanted to light the blonde on fire, in his stupid Starbucks apron, all smelling like coffee ass _bitch._

“Hey bro,” Bill said mildly, not bothering to lift his head from where it was resting on Mike’s chest, still a bit out of breath after losing the fight for the Wii remote. “I’m glad you’re here and all, but like, you’re blocking the TV.”

“We’re all glad you’re here,” Rich said, hoping the sarcasm in his voice wasn’t too apparent. Then Rich felt someone kick him, and he looked up at Bev, who shook her head softly, and Richie realized that maybe he wasn’t being as subtle as he should, so he fixed his face before any of his new friends/crushes/absolute nemeses noticed that he was scowling and staring daggers into Stan’s back

 _Thank you_ , Richie mouthed to Bev, and she smiled and leaned forward to grab one of his unruly curls and give it a gentle tug. A warm feeling pooled in Richie’s stomach for a moment, he really did love Bev to the moon and back, she was the only bitch who completely understood him and still liked him anyways. Just as he was feeling better, almost able to relax and watch the movie that Mike had finally pressed play on, fuckin’ _Stanley_ had to do something with his hands that made Eddie let out a delicious little moan, and ruin everything some more.

“Hey, baby boy,” Stan said quietly, pulling back and looking at Eddie with a smile as he cupped his chin. Rich watched and ground his teeth together, hating that someone else was touching Eddie like that. 

“I’m gonna go change now,” Stan went on, “keep saving my seat?” 

“Yes sir,” Eddie said, throwing Stan a mocking salute and grinning.

 _Sir_ , Richie thought, scoffing internally and definitely not at all turned on, not even a little.

“What seat?” Richie asked, his voice harsher than he wanted. 

Stan slowly turned and made eye contact with Richie, his eyebrows raised and his lips all fuckin’ slick with Eddie’s spit. From over his shoulder even Eddie was looking at Richie now, confusion on his face at Richie’s interruption.

 _Shit,_ Richie thought, _too real, back the fuck up, Rich_. He cleared his throat and went on.

“Every seat is taken, my man Stan.” Rich said, trying to sound light and breezy. He gestured around the room and then pat the floor next to him. 

“You might have to join me here on the floor,” Richie continued, shimmying his shoulders suggestively. “It’d be a chance for us to get to know eachother better.”

“Tempting,” Stan said, his voice laden with sarcasm. “I love sitting on the floor like a dog.” 

_I think he just called me a bitch_ , Richie thought, and he took in a breath to reply, but then Bev kicked him in the spine again, this time a lot harder than she had before. _Beep beep Richie._ He could literally hear her voice in his head. So Richie let the breath out and winked at Eddie who was still frowning, relaxing a bit as Eddie’s face cleared of stress.

Stretching, Stan let out a yawn as he walked towards the stairs. But right before he was out of sight, the blonde paused. “Anyways,” Stan said, lingering in the doorway, “Eddie knows where I sit, and where he does when I’m around.” Stan made eye contact with Richie for the second time. 

“My boy knows his place.” Stan finished. 

With those words Stan stalked out of the room. Richie looked over at Eddie, and was annoyed to see how flushed his friend was, a cherry blush filling his cheeks and spreading down his neck to disappear into his shirt. 

Richie wanted to peel the peach colored sweater off of Eddie and see how far down the flush went, but he took a deep breath and contented himself with swirling shapes into the carpet, figuring the room was dark enough that no one could tell he was writing ‘fuck stan’ over and over in the red shag with his finger. He heard steps coming down the stairs and quickly ran his hand over his work, erasing the incriminating words. He glanced up and saw Eddie staring at the doorway instead of the movie, eyes glimmering.

Stan barely got to the doorway when Eddie hopped up from the recliner and stood to the side so Stan could take his seat, not self-conscious at all about crawling into Stan’s lap in front of a room full of people. A room where Riche was sitting _right there_.

~~~

Eventually things settled and Richie was able to just watch the movie, or at least pretend to watch it. The mix of alcohol and pizza had gotten to Bev, and Richie smiled to himself as he took in the sound of her gentle snores emanating from above his head. Richie scooted forward, twisting around and gripping his phone. He quietly snapped a pic of the cuteness that was Ben and Bev completely passed out, all wrapped up in eachother. _I’ll post it to instagram later_ , he decided, tucking his phone into his pants pocked. 

He settled back against the front of the loveseat, being careful to not bump into either of his sleeping friends, and it pushed him closer to the La-Z-Boy where Stan and Eddie were sitting and - _holy shit_. 

Richie blinked rapidly, not sure what to do or where to look. Eddie was curled up in Stan’s lap, his head resting on Stan’s chest, his fingers loosely wrapped around Stan’s neck. That wasn’t the shocking part, what made Richie’s blood run straight from his head down to his cock was the fact that Stan’s hand was casually dipped down into the space between Eddie’s thighs. The flush Richie had noticed on Eddie’s face earlier had grown significantly darker and his tanned legs kicked out a little bit.

 _Holy fuck that’s hot_ , Richie thought, mouth dropping open.

When Richie was able to pull his eyes away from the sight of skin leading up into Eddie’s shorts, he saw that Stan was staring directly at him.

Rich jumped a bit before darting a look around the room. _Is anyone else seeing this shit?_ He wanted to scream, but nope, no one else was paying any attention. Mike was mouthing along with Tom Hanks, and Bill was yawning, looking like he was about to join Ben and Beverly in sleeping though the film. 

Stan winked at Richie and carded his free hand up through Eddie’s hair, tugging and making Eddie let out a small sound that made Richie’s entire body feel like it had caught on fire. 

Rich sucked in a breath and flattened his palms to the carpet, trying to have the sensation of the rough material under his hands ground him. 

Trying to stop staring. 

Trying to stop imagining how soft Eddie’s hair probably was.

Trying to stop thinking about exactly what Stan’s hand was doing between Eddie’s tan and shaking legs.

Sure, maybe he was a bit overinvested, but like, did Stan really need to look _directly_ at Richie as he leaned down and tugged at the shell of Eddie’s ear with his teeth? 

Richie’s brain flatlined for a minute, but when he came back to himself he could hear Stan’s voice, low and quiet, barely audible over the sound of the movie.

“Good boy” Stan was saying, “saving my seat all night. Keeping it nice and warm for daddy.” Eddie buried his head in Stan’s shoulder and let out a slight whimper that went right to Richie’s crotch. 

Richie shifted in place, trying to break eye contact with Stan, but somehow he wasn’t able to do it. Stan tilted his head to the side, looking at Richie steadily and then he shifted Eddie in his lap just a bit so that Richie could finally stop imagining what Stan’s free hand was doing - he could stop imaging it because he could now clearly see how it was going back and forth from tracing lightly over the soft cotton of Eddie’s shorts to roughly palming Eddie through the material.

Richie watched, entranced, as Eddie’s dick started to form a tent. Richie’s mouth was watering and his hands were itching to reach and touch. _But that’s what Stan wants_ , Richie realized, _he wants me to watch and want what he has_.

Angry, horny, and confused, Richie bit his lip and yanked his eyes away. He ignored the feeling of Stan’s stare as it bored into the side of his face, and he did his best to focus on the movie dialogue, but he couldn’t completely block out the noises Eddie was making, and honestly, even if this was awkward as fuck, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to.

Rich did the best he could, and he managed to stare doggedly at the screen for ten whole minutes before - 

“St-stan,” Eddie said, voice broken and stuttering. 

Richie’s head turned, almost against his will, and his pants got uncomfortably tight at the sight before him.

Eddie’s eyes were half closed and he was squirming around a bit in Stan’s lap, his lip caught between his teeth. Stan’s hand was no longer outside Eddie’s shorts, he’d snaked them up through the pants hole. Richie could clearly see the lace outline of Eddie’s panties curving around the peachy skin of his ass and Richie groaned - trying his best at the last moment to shift the sound into a sneeze.

Stan lifted an eyebrow at Richie and smiled. Eddie looked down and saw Richie sitting there, mouth open and unable to tear his eyes away. Eddie flushed, trying to close his legs, but Stan’s hand was in the way.

“Stan,” Eddie said again, voice still low enough to be difficult to make out.

Stan tugged at Eddie’s hair until Eddie let out a hiss, but for some reason Eddie was still looking at Richie, and Richie felt like he was floating in place, trapped and unable to stop staring.

“Is that my name, baby?” Stan said. “Is that what good boys call their daddy?”

“N-n-no,” Eddie breathed, and Stan pulled just a bit tighter, and Eddie gasped. 

“No sir!” Eddie spat out, loud enough that Bill let out a very directed cough from where he was sitting on the couch, before pulling his phone out and shooting off a text, side-eyeing the recliner and rolling his eyes.

Rich watched as Eddie’s phone went off and Eddie jumped a bit. 

“You gonna get that?” Mike asked, voice flat but still watching Tom Hanks and Robin Wright talk their feelings out. “I really think that you should get that.”

Eddie quickly reached for his phone from where it was resting on the coffee table and, after scanning the screen, buried his face in Stan’s chest, obviously embarrassed. 

Richie glared at Stan, wondering what his game was, and also why it seemed to be working. Stan just lazily smiled, dropping a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head and pointedly removing his hand from Eddie’s lap and placing it on the arm of the chair before turning to watch the movie. 

_Fun’s over_ , Richie thought. _Well, fun or whatever the fuck that was._ Now that it was over, Richie couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he had exaggerated it, seen things that weren’t really there. _It’s no matter,_ he decided firmly, _it’s done now._

Rich just wished that someone would give the message to his dick. Trapped in the confines of his tight jeans, Richie’s erection wouldn’t go down. He moved around a little, trying to ease the pressure, hoping that would help, but it just caused friction and he bit back a moan. 

He really did try to focus on the film but his brain just kept going back to the visual of Eddie’s lace underwear and the way it looked against his skin, the way that Eddie’s big doe eyes grew larger when he realized that Richie was looking, but Eddie hadn’t looked away.

_Why hadn’t Eddie looked away?_

Richie was confused, and his dick was still kind of running the show. 

Even remembering the time he walked in on his parents doing it didn’t make the boner go away. 

The situation was getting a bit desperate. Giving up, Richie jumped to his feet and fled the room, mumbling something about needing to take a piss. 

He was glad he was wearing a long shirt, and that his flannel was wrapped around his waist as he made his way up the stairs to the bathroom farthest away from his friends. He wasn’t sure how he was going to resolve the situation, but it would be either through jerking it out or taking a cold shower, and in either case - establishing some distance seemed wise. 

Slamming the door shut and fumbling at the lock, Richie hissed and eased his zipper open, sighing in relief as the pressure on the head of his cock lessened. 

_I’m almost 21 years old_ , Richie thought, facing himself in the mirror and willing his blood to return to his upstairs brain, _that is too old to jack off in a random bathroom because of a cute boy in shorts_. But then he groaned, thinking once more of the sight of Eddie in those shorts, the patterned lace molding his ass, and remembering the face Eddie made when Stan pulled at his hair.

Without thinking, Richie’s hands went to his hips and he gave his already loosened pants a yank, letting them drop to his knees and freeing his cock more completely. He palmed himself through the black material of his briefs and almost cried at how good it felt. Just as he was about to dip into his briefs and start really stroking, the door opened behind him and Stan was just fucking _standing_ there and _looking_ at Richie.

“Fuck, man” Richie said, hunching forward and turning away from the door. “The room is clearly occupied!”

“I’ll say,” Stan said, grinning and stepping further into the room. “You do seem... extremely busy.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Rich said, breath catching in his throat. “Your boyfriend is gonna be looking for you.”

“Hmmmm,” Stan said, laughing and leaning against the bathroom counter, “no, I don’t think so.” And he looked behind him for a moment and made a gesture. A low voice said something, and Richie’s heart hammered in his chest as he started to pull his pants up. Stan quickly whipped his head around and looked at Rich.

“Stop that,” Stan said, frowning at Richie and gesturing to where Richie’s hands were tangled in his belt loops, pulling them up over his hard dick. “I didn’t say you could do that.” Stan went on. 

Richie was shocked to find himself listening, but he took his hands away from his pants slowly. _Might as well go with the weirdness of the evening,_ Richie reasoned to himself.

Stan regarded him for a second, expression hard, as though to make sure Richie wasn’t going to do anything else as dumb as pull his pants up. Then, just as Richie was gearing up to break the tension with a joke, Stan turned away, talking once more to whoever was in the hallway.

“Yeah, I was right,” Stan said to the person outside that Richie had a sneaking suspicion was a certain beautiful boy that smelled like apple candy. A soft reply was just beyond Richie’s earshot. “Bigger than I thought,” Stan admitted, with a pointed glance at Richie’s underwear covered dick, which made Rich look down at his erection and flush around his ears. 

And then, to Richie’s embarrassment, Stan pulled the door open and ushered Eddie into the room before closing the door firmly, trapping the three of them in the space which suddenly felt a lot smaller.

“Hey Rich,” Eddie said softly, not making eye contact as he walked past Richie without touching him and delicately sat down on the edge of the tub.

“Um, the fuck is going on?” Richie asked weakly.

“What’s going on is that I think we need to talk,” Stan said, stepping into Richie’s space and crowding him backwards until Rich’s back was pressed against the cold mirror. Richie could make out a gentle scattering of freckles across the bridge of Stan’s nose, and he concentrated on that for a moment until the room stopped spinning.

“And we couldn’t have this conversation when my dick was put away?” Richie went on, grasping at the humor and purposefully not thinking about the fact that two men bursting in on him in the bathroom right as he was about to take care of himself was literally directly out of one of his best masturbatory fantasy scenarios.

“Well,” Stan went on, crossing his arms and regarding Richie’s erection thoughtfully, “we’re going to talk about the fact that you want to fuck my boyfriend, and since _you_ were staring at _his_ cock less than twenty minutes ago, I think this is more than fair.”

“Stan-,” Eddie began from where he was perched, his voice strong, but then his boyfriend shot a glance around Rich at his man and Eddie closed his mouth and swallowed.

“Ah, sorry to break this to you, Stanford,” Richie said, carefully choosing his words, “but I don’t want to fuck your boyfriend.” 

“That’s a lie,” Stan said, shrugging. “I see how you look at him.” Stan got up close to Richie, not touching him but still near enough that Richie could feel the heat of Stan’s breath against the side of his face. Richie’s hips moved of his own accord, but he went on.

“I, ah, _don’t_ look at him,” Richie panted, slamming his hand down on the bathroom counter, unable to look either Stan or Eddie in the face as he lied. 

“Oh?” Stan said, eyes glinting. “So it was some other trashbag in glasses that was staring at _my_ slut twenty minutes ago?”

“I wasn’t staring,” Richie bit out. He looked past Stan to where Eddie was sitting, trying now to convince Eddie at least that he wasn’t like that, that he wouldn’t _do_ that. “I _wasn’t_.”

Richie felt like he might actually be crying from being so turned on, but he wasn’t sure. All he knew is that it was taking all of his energy to keep his hands fisted at his sides and not give in to the urge to rub at his aching cock.

“So you _weren’t_ looking and you _don’t_ want to fuck my boy,” Stan repeated back to Richie, “that’s why you’re all wet in your briefs, your cock leaking all over without even being _touched_ . Because you _don’t_ want to strip Eddie down and see the way his ass just spills out of his pants. You _don’t_ want to run your hands over the perfect softness and dip in between to feel how hot he is for you.”

Richie glanced from Stan to Eddie, who was flushed and staring at the taller men with an open mouth and a glazed expression, and then Rich looked back at Stan, swallowing tightly.

“N-n-no,” he got out, the precum dripping from his cock showing the lie in his words.

“You _don’t_ want to know the noises my baby boy would make for you as you bent him over the bathroom counter?” Stan went on, staring at Richie, his blue eyes hypnotizing. “You don’t want to give him a slap and watch the way his ass reddens and he arches backwards into your touch?” 

Richie let out a gasp and his hand finally betrayed him, going to his cock and brushing over the tip as his hips canted up. He could _see_ it, he could imagine exactly what Stan was painting for him. Could visualize the way Eddie’s spine would bend for him, the gasp Eddie would let out.

“You don’t want to kick his legs apart, spread him wide and get on your knees for him?”

Rich spread some precum over his length and fisted himself from root to tip, panting.

“You sure about that?” Stan continued in his low and even voice. “You aren’t curious about how he would taste on your tongue?” Stan paused, growling and licking his lips as he adjusted himself in his pants and stared through the mirror at Eddie’s blissed out face.

“All peaches and cream with just a hint of salt.” Stan said, his voice rough. 

Richie’s fist tightened around his dick at that, and he cried out, shoving his free hand up, cramming his fist in his mouth to block out the noise, to stop it from taking over.

“He’d fuck you if I gave him permission,” Stan went on, saying it almost as an afterthought. “Eddie’s a good little cockwhore like that, he’d take you in his mouth and get you nice and hard and you’d get to hear the sounds he makes when he’s choking on dick. All wet and dirty. He moans like a good slut, and you can feel it down the length of your cock and all the way up your spine.”

Richie was certain now that he was crying, but he didn’t even care, he just started moving his hand faster, pausing for a moment to shove his briefs completely out of the way, letting the long curve of his erection free, not caring that Stan could see, knowing in the back of his mind that Eddie could see him, that Eddie was probably looking.

“Maybe I’d let him suck you down at least,” Stan went on, sighing, “if only you’d just admit what you wanted. If you’d stop lying about how jealous you are that I get to do _this_.” And Stan shoved away from where he had been crowded into Richie’s space. Richie had let his eyes flutter shut, but now they flew open and he watched as Stan went over and grabbed Eddie’s dick through the fabric of his pants. Eddie gasped and leaned backwards, shoving his hips forward into Stan’s grip. 

Richie’s hand stuttered around his dick, and he held himself together tightly along the base, not wanting to cum, not yet at least, he wanted to look at as much as Stan was willing to let him see.

“We’ve talked about you, you know that?” Stan went on, giving Eddie a couple harsh tugs through his shorts before stepping away and back into Richie’s space. Rich whimpered, hating that he wasn’t going to get a good look, but letting Stan’s words push him closer to the edge, about to give in.

“Eddie thinks you’re hot,” Stan whispered right into Richie’s ear, lips almost touching. Stan paused, as if he was considering, and then he shrugged and went on. “Yeah, my baby likes the way your fingers move when you play the guitar. He wants to know what they’d feel like inside him, stretching him out and getting him ready for you. He’s cum for me while thinking about how you’d play his body.”

From his seat on the edge of the tub Eddie let out a shocked noise, like he wasn’t expecting Stan to say that, and that’s what sent Richie over the edge - that little noise.

Richie’s vision went white and he felt himself unravel, starting at the base of his spine. He bit his fist and let the orgasm take him all the way.

“That’s it,” Stan went on, touching Rich for the first time, just to rest a cool hand against Richie’s flushed brow, “let go, let it all out.”

And Richie did, he came and left and fell back into his body slowly, blinking away the stars and looking around the room, first at Eddie who was staring at Rich like a work of art and then at Stan, who was looking at Richie like maybe he was seeing him for the first time. Richie took in a shuddering breath and watched as something slammed shut behind Stan’s eyes and Stan took his hand away and stumbled back a few steps.

Stan shook his head and then smiled, baring his teeth.

“Told you you wanted to fuck my boy,” Stan said, looking Richie up and down. “That’s the only reason you’d cum all over yourself like that, like a cheap whore.”

Richie stifled a sob and shivered, feeling the cooling sensation of his cum against his chest, gingerly tucking himself back into his cold and wet briefs.

Stan leaned in close again, and Richie sucked in a breath, wondering what was going to happen now, but Stan just pulled a towel off of the shelf behind and above Rich’s head.

“Clean up your mess,” Stan went on, throwing the towel at Richie’s head and backing up. Stan walked towards the door, turning around right as his hand settled on the handle and unclicked the lock. 

“Just _look_ at yourself.” Stan spat out, throwing one more look at Richie, pausing and opening his mouth as if to say something else, before shaking his head and walking out.

Rich just sat there breathing into the empty space where Stan had been standing, before turning to view himself in the mirror. Stan was right - he was completely wrecked. Hair even more fucked up than usual, cum spattered over his fist and shirt, Richie just _looked_ for a moment until he noticed that Eddie was still sitting there, also staring at the mess that was Richie post-life-shattering-orgasm

Then Eddie stood up slowly and took a step towards Richie, his tan face all flushed. Throwing a glance towards the door, Eddie sighed and he started to leave, following Stan’s footsteps, but right as Richie thought that Eddie would give in and silently back out of the room and go after his boyfriend, Eddie instead turned around and ran to him, grabbing his face between two small and soft hands. Rich’s breath caught in his chest as the warmth of Eddie’s hands filled him, and then he pretty much ceased to exist because Eddie started rubbing a thumb over the stubble of Richie’s cheek. 

“Hey,” Eddie said.

“Hey,” Richie echoed back, brain definitely not yet functioning. 

Eddie smiled, the action causing his eyes to crinkle up, all glitter and sunshine. Leaning forward, Eddie quickly pressed his mouth to Richie’s chapped lips. Rich froze in place, feeling the universe both fall out of orbit and return, all in a single moment. Eddie pulled back, shoved his hands in his pockets and with a small parting grin, left the room.

It began and ended in an instant. A feather light touch of skin on skin and then he was gone. But Rich still felt the sweet burn of it through every cell of his body.

Richie let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and reached over on his side, turning the sink on and getting the towel wet, going about the process of cleaning himself up, wondering what the fucking fuck this all meant and deciding, for the moment at least, not to worry about it. 

No matter what came of tonight, this was still by far the best orgasm Richie had ever had, and he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He just hoped it wouldn’t make Eddie want to stop being his friend, and maybe, just maybe, he’d get to know Stan better now, too, get to see more of whatever it was that had flashed behind Stan’s eyes in the moments Richie was coming back to himself.

 _Well,_ Richie thought, patting at the fabric of his shirt before giving up and taking it off entirely. _No matter what, things definitely haven’t got more boring._


	2. cuz you smell like apple candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's have some delicious richie and beverly interactions (and richie meeting a Beautiful Boy in red shorts) as i work in exposition and background crap. the next chapter is going to be Absolutely Filthy - so if you are here for smut like what was in chapter one (and/or more than that, i hope) i promise it is Coming.  
> in my brain (and on my blog) i think of rich and bev as 'the chaos bisexuals', i hope that translates!

_~seven months ago~_

Things were going terribly at the freshman orientation kickoff. 

Attendance was mandatory for some reason, and Richie and Beverly had spent most of their time during the ‘Welcome To The Beginning Of The Rest Of Your Life’ speech scoping out places to sneak off for cigarettes. When they finally decided that the far wall of the gym was the best option, they snuck away from their orientation group. 

Given the fact that Rich was a walking tornado of disaster and Beverly had chosen today to give in to one of her rare rounds of the giggles, it wasn’t especially _quiet_ , but the upperclassman with the curly hair and forearms that Richie felt a need to lick just rolled his eyes and turned back to his clipboard, pretending not to notice.

 _A fine chap,_ Richie thought, letting Bev tug him along. Looking back he not-too-subtly checked out the blonde man’s ass before they rounded the corner. _And a fine ass, as well_ , he decided.

 _Checking out hot people and sneaking off for smokes,_ Richie thought, grinning and pressing his back against the cement wall of the sports building, _it’s like high school followed us all the way to California._

It was a strange blend of reassuring and disconcerting, but at least it was somewhat familiar. Rich reached into his back pocket and pulled out his smokes, automatically handing one over to Bev as she dug around in her bra for the zippo lighter.

 _Why’d I choose a smoke free campus, again?_ He wondered, hand outstretched and waiting.

 _Because it was Bev’s first choice and you’re a loser who only has one friend,_ a small voice replied in his brain.

Resisting the urge to wince, Rich’s hand shook as he lit the Marlboro. He took an especially deep pull and shoved that thought deep _deep_ down into the box of ‘we don’t think about it’ that had grown a lot larger over the past year. 

Waiting it out in Derry as Beverly finished her last year of high school had been shit, but he wouldn’t trade the experience of starting college at the same time as his best friend for all the tea in China.

“So, after the grand speech to inspire us for decades to come is over, exactly how long do we have to stay?” Richie asked, exhaling smoke and scanning the quad from their secluded spot. He took in the different freshmen recruitment booths littering the area, most of the clubs had poorly handwritten signs proclaiming that they were ‘The Greatest’. There were multiple instances of glitter. 

“Because this is just _depressing_.” He finished, taking another drag once he was sure that no counselors had caught sight of them. 

“Rich, it hasn’t even been ten minutes,” Bev replied, reaching a hand out to tug at one of his curls to soften the statement.

“But there’s a fucking _clown_ , Beverly,” Rich said, gesturing to where the world’s saddest balloon animals were being made and handed out to unwilling students just trying to squeeze into the portapotties. “We can’t stay in the same place as a _clown_ , I’m allergic, I’m gonna start sneezing.”

“We have to stay for at _least_ half an hour,” Bev decided after looking at her phone. “Anyways, Ben is supposed to meet us here when he gets off of work, and that won’t be until 4.” 

Richie felt a small surge of jealousy and he smoothed his face out before the frown could take root. _Ben freakin’ Hanscom_. Somehow Bev had met and fallen head over heels for a wonderful marshmallowy soul in the body of an ultimate fighter within the first 24 hours of them reaching the west coast. It didn’t quite seem fair to Richie, who, after a week of this shit was still glaringly single and alone and had been sexiled from their motel room several times before the dorms opened up. But Richie was a good friend, and Bev deserved to get dicked down on the regular, even if it did increase the frequency of her giggle fits. 

“Fine,” Richie said, resigning himself to being stuck here for the foreseeable future. With a dramatic sigh, he ran a hand through his tangled hair. Richie couldn’t help but add on - “But I reserve the right to bitch nonstop until he gets here.”

“Oh, how different that will be from all the times in my life when you have bitched nonstop without reserving the right,” Bev said, using the wall to stub out the butt of her cigarette.

“I’m just saying that I can think of a _million_ things that are more fun than this mixer,” Richie said, reluctantly standing up from his slouched position to toss both his and Bev’s trash into the garishly bright red garbage can. “And that includes letting you try to shave my ballsack again.”

“Beep beep, Richie” Bev replied, wrinkling her nose. “There isn’t enough everclear in the world for _that_ repeat performance.”

“Hey,” Richie said, indignant on behalf of the family jewels, “you should _be_ so lucky as to gaze upon the beauty of my nuts.”

“Sure, Jan.” Bev said easily, walking back towards their group. She paused and grabbed some gum out of her purse, tossing a piece at Richie’s head. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

~~~

“This is the first and last time I try to show school spirit,” Richie hissed to Bev almost an hour later, glaring down at his green cotton tee. It matched the color of the shirts the counselors were wearing exactly, and Rich was trying to convince both Beverly and himself that it was on purpose. No matter the intention, though, when combined with his scruff and height, it had given a lot of his fellow classmates the idea that he was one of the orientation leaders, despite the fact that it said ‘Bigfoot Is Real And He Tried To Eat My Ass’ instead of ‘Welcome to the Future, Class of 2k24!’

“Don’t even,” Beverly said, poking him in the chest. “We both know you wore that shirt trying to get out of the group photo.”

Richie winced, Bev was right, but still, this was just _too much_. The waves of students just kept _showing up_. In _droves_. He barely sent one group away when another would flock towards him asking about the orientation events or the fucking cost of a pencil or what the shit have you. And then, to top it all off, his ploy didn’t even _work_. 

The class photographer hadn’t even blinked before telling Bev to stand in front of him and block out the profanity.

“Okay fine,” Rich went on, accepting that Bev wouldn’t take his shit, “but it’s like they don’t know how to _read_ , Beverly.” 

Looking over he saw yet another cluster walking towards them.

“We’ve gotta make a run for it, Marsh!” Richie cried as he grabbed Bev by the wrist and pulled her across the quad.

“Fuck, Rich, what are you doing?” Bev said, breathlessly following him.

“Maybe if we move fast enough, I can evade the masses,” Richie explained, slowing down at the nearly empty Bingo table. The group of confused teens he had his eye on focused instead on the tall blonde Richie had noticed earlier in the day. _Whew,_ Rich thought, _we're safe._

Bev rolled her eyes, mumbling something about there not being enough nicotine in the world to deal with his shit sometimes. 

But she followed, because that’s what Bev’n’Richie _did_. 

For a moment there was blessed silence, Rich heaved out a sigh and sank into a lawn chair, scooting to the side so Bev could slide in next to him. But then -

“Excuse me, bro,” a voice said from right behind them, “can you, like, maybe tell me where the Stevenson building is?” 

Richie let out a groan and Beverly hid her laugh by shoving her head into his shoulder, her entire body shaking. 

“Fuck me up the ass!” Richie went on after pointing the dreadlocked white dude off in a general leftward direction, not feeling guilty in the least for sending the boy on a wild goose chase. “They’re everywhere.” 

“You couldn’t handle getting pegged by me,” Bev replied easily, not bothering to look up from her phone. Ben had just gotten off of work and was on his way to meet them, so Beverly was preoccupied.

Rich snorted, but didn’t fully give in to the laugh, because his afternoon was quickly becoming a legitimate source of frustration. He already felt self-conscious about being almost two years olden than the rest of the freshmen, and this was making it a lot worse.

“Hey,” a new voice said, and Rich felt someone grip his shoulder and give it a light shake. Rich swallowed down a litany of curses and slowly leaned his head backwards to see what unfortunate freshman needed to know the start time for the cookout or some other such bullshitty college question. 

“I just wanted to say-”

 _Maybe I should just take the shirt off_ , Rich thought, sighing and steeling himself to give out more fake information. _People might get blinded by the paleness of my skin, but if they can’t see me, it reduces the likeliness that they will try and talk to me._ Then he had leaned back far enough to made eye contact with the person who was still touching him, and Rich’s brain went to static as warmth filled his belly. 

“-total safety hazard-” Rich heard in the back of his mind, but that was all he could make out as his eyes took in an upside down but startlingly pretty face. 

“Holy shit,” Richie said, righting himself and twisting around to get a better look. _Cute, cute cute_.

Richie moved too quickly, causing Bev to let out a disgruntled cry and hop out of the chair right as it collapsed, Richie trapped in its depths. 

“Ouch,” Rich moaned weakly. But he honestly couldn’t be bothered to care that much about the pain in his ass, he had more important things to focus on, like the beautiful boy in the red shorts who was still talking, tan arms crossed over a lithe chest.

“-clearly not made to hold two people.” The boy finished, sighing and shaking his head.

Rich just blinked. The stranger shifted from foot to foot for a second before turning his focus over to Beverly, who had said something Rich wasn't making the slightest effort to process.

“Yeah, too little too late, I guess,” the boy said, grinning at Bev. 

Beverly smiled back as she stood there holding a hand out for Richie to grab hold of and use to pull himself up and free from the cheap plastic. 

Richie scowled, not liking the fact that the boy wasn’t looking at him anymore. 

_Bev already has one pretty boy’s attention, she doesn’t need two_ , Richie thought, _so stop looking at her and look back at me_. The boy paused in the middle of a sentence, and turned back to Richie, making eye contact, a single eyebrow raised. 

_Did I say that out loud_? Richie wondered, starting to sort out his limbs and get up. 

“Yes,” Beverly said, frowning and kneeling down next to Rich to look at him more fully, “I think you scrambled your brains a bit or something, Rich.”

“Nah,” the boy said, still standing. “He didn’t hit his head. Just bruised his ass.”

“And my dignity,” Richie added, finally taking Bev’s offered hand and pulling himself to his feet. 

“I think you’ll survive,” the stranger said, grinning. 

Richie’s mouth fell open at the way it lit up the already gorgeous face, making the boy’s eyes glitter and showing off a couple of adorable dimples.

 _Holy shit, this is the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen_ , Richie thought.

Richie opened his mouth to say as much, but then Beverly screeched “BENJAMIN HANSCOM!” at the top of her lungs and started waving crazily. Richie and the boy both jumped, and followed her gaze over to where Ben was waving back and walking towards them, all muscles and pearly white teeth. 

“Shit,” the boy said, and Rich turned his attention back to him. The stranger was frowning and standing on tiptoe, craning his neck and looking past where Ben was.

“Well, you seem fine, and I gotta go,” the boy said, sounding distracted. “Some other idiots are doubling up in these crap chairs and they’re on concrete, so the chance of a concussion is higher.” 

“But-” Richie started, thoughts piling up in his brain and preventing him from being able to choose which of his numerous objections to go with. _But I don’t know your name… But I want to say thanks for trying to save me from myself…. But concussions aren’t nearly as bad as a bruised dignity…_ Any of them would have worked, but then it was too late, the beautiful boy was gone.

Richie sucked in a breath as the boy darted past, a sweet and pleasant scent filling his nose. 

_Well, shit_ , Rich thought as he silently stared at the boy’s ass until the amazing view was blocked from his sight by a large group of other students. 

Rich looked over at Bev, wanting to talk about the literal gold-kissed angel that had just been in their midst, but by that time Ben had made his way over so she was busily (and noisily) exchanging saliva with her man and literally climbing him like a tree. So Richie contented himself with gathering up the broken bits of chair to dispose of in another garishly painted garbage can, head spinning with the memory of the way the boy had touched him, and the way the boy had dimpled up while smiling, and the way the boy's ass looked in his shorts.... Richie basically cleaned up his mess and yeeted himself headfirst into a crush as he tried to decide exactly what the boy had smelled like. It seemed important.

 _Like fruit_ , Richie thought. _But sweeter, kinda. All vanilla mixed with apple candy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I made an edit of Richie's green Bigfoot shirt because y'all need the visual](https://losers-to-lovers.tumblr.com/post/617226207753322496/sometimes-u-gotta-design-a-fake-t-shirt-for-your)


	3. consumed with what's to transpire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> richie tries to study, someone comes to bother him, smutty smut of the smut variety ensues, things take a turn that you might not expect. i promised this chapter would be filthy - i hope, after reading, that you feel like i delivered on that promise.

Richie was having a really shitty night. It all started with a text from Mike, asking how Richie had handled the last topic point in their philosophy self-reflection paper. A paper that was worth 10% of their grade. A paper that Richie had, until Mike’s message, completely forgotten about. A paper that was due at midnight - no extensions. Mike’s text came in at 9 pm, so Richie was pretty much screwed - and not in the fun way.

Shit fuck.

So, not only did Richie have to spend his Friday night frantically typing up the way that Epictetus and Stoic philosophy compared and contrasted with his own personal ethics - he also had to cancel on going out with Bev and Ben. And Bev was mad at him. Which wasn’t _fair_. It wasn’t Richie’s fault that - well, no, actually, it was entirely Richie’s fault. Bev had been planning their night all week, and Richie had promised to come, but like, she’s been his friend for _years_ now, she should know that Richie was never going to get an award for being good about time management. 

Still, Richie knew that he was supposed to be an actual adult now, and actual adults remembered to work on their assignments. Actual adults kept their promises. _But then again, actual adults also take smoke breaks_ , Richie figured, so, with a sigh and a stretch, he uncurled himself from his pretzeled position at his desk and cracked his window. He had time for a smoke break, but like, not enough to put on pants and leave his dorm room.

Richie was just getting into it, taking a long second drag and letting the sweet sweet sensation of nicotine fill his lungs when someone started banging on his door. Loudly. So loudly that Richie was worried the door was going to fall off of its hinges.

“What the shit?” Richie wondered out loud, breathing out, and, with one sad look at all the tobacco he was about to waste, he hastily stubbed out his cig and threw it out the window.

The banging noise got even louder. Rich jumped a bit, and scrambled up.

“I’m fucking coming, jesus tits,” Richie muttered, too quiet for whoever was out there to hear. He mentally ran through the list of potential angry visitors it could be. Marsh and Ben were out for the night, as were most of the students who hadn’t forgotten about important homework assignments until the last second. And it couldn’t be an RA - they always announced themselves, and they cared a lot more about preserving university property, so they wouldn’t bang on the door loud enough for it to rattle. 

“One second!” Rich shouted, but then, looking down, he realized that, oh yeah, he was naked. _I can’t answer the door like this_ , Richie thought. 

“I lied, it’s going to be more like a minute or so,” Richie said, scanning his laundry covered floor to try and locate a cleanish shirt and some sweats.

“Hurry up,” a voice said, but Rich had succeeded in finding a shirt, so the sound was muffled and didn’t really clue Richie in to who was there. 

Shoving his uncooperative legs into sweats with one hand and using the other to spray his dorm with febreze, Rich realized that literally all of the people he knew had plans tonight. Even Eddie. It was date night for the Spaghetti man, which made Richie want to destroy things with fire, but hey, he was working on it. 

_Who the fuck is it?_ Richie wondered. But then, he figured that was a fair thing to ask before opening the door to someone so aggressively pounding away.

“Who’s there?” Richie asked.

“Just open the door, Tozier,” a voice said through the cheap wood, in lieu of answering. A deep and even voice that haunted Richie’s worst nightmares and, sure, he was man enough to admit it, some of his wet dreams. In a strictly hate-fucking capacity.

 _“Stanley?”_ Richie asked, crossing his room and resting his hand on the door handle, not sure if he should unlock it or not. _Why the shit would Uris be banging on his door at,_ Richie looked at his phone, _10 pm?_

“No,” the voice drawled sarcastically, and yeah, that was Uris. No one else sounded like that. “I’m Smokey the bear, here to say that only you can prevent forest fires.”

Richie froze, thinking. _Yep. That’s Uris. And he made a joke. Because this is the Twilight Zone. What the shit is my fucking life?_

“I can hear you standing there and breathing,” Stan said, voice loud. “So just open the fucking door.”

 _Well, no time like the present to step into whatever alternate reality this is_ , Richie decided, shrugging. And he unlocked and opened the door.

Stan was standing there, fist still raised as though he wasn’t actually expecting Richie to open the door. His face was flushed, tinging the pale skin with a ruddy raspberry color. Stan seemed out of breath and his hair was slightly wet. 

“Is it raining?” Richie asked, fixating on that detail rather than the wild look in Stan’s eyes and resisting a sudden urge to offer Stan a towel.

“What?” Stan said, just standing there and blinking. “Uhm, yeah, a bit.” 

“Oh,” Richie said. He didn’t really know what else he was supposed to do, so they just stood there for a while, breathing, blinking and _looking_ at each other. 

Richie took in the blue button-up Stan was wearing, and the way that one of the curls framing his face seemed to be in a perfect ringlet. Richie suppressed a desire to reach out and tug at the curl, to see if it would bounce back into shape afterwards. 

Something damning must have passed over Richie’s face, because all at once the spell was broken. Stan frowned and roughly shouldered past Richie into his room without a word, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“By all means, come on in, Staniel.” Richie said, sarcastically stepping to the side after Stan had gone by, ignoring the way that his entire arm was tingling. 

Heart in his teeth, Richie looked past where the tall blonde had been standing to check the hall for Eddie. 

“Eddie’s not here,” Stan said, voice flat. 

Richie flushed. _Am I really that obvious?_

“I-I wasn’t -” Richie started, but Stan interrupted.

“Yes you were,” Stan sighed. “I’m pretty sure you’re incapable of entering or exiting a single fucking room without checking to see if my boyfriend is there.”

Richie’s back stiffened, and he quickly turned around to face Stan, who had moved to the middle of his room and was distastefully kicking at Richie’s clothing-covered floor.

“You gonna close that?” Stan asked, gesturing with his chin towards the wide open door without looking up from where he was nudging Richie’s clothes into a pile. 

Richie took a moment to consider things.

“No,” Richie said, folding his arms, “I don’t think I am. If you are here to maim or murder me, I’m not going to make it easier on you.” 

Stan let out a laugh that contained exactly no humor whatsoever. 

“I wish I was here to maim you,” Stan muttered, after the silence dragged on for a moment too long. 

_I have no clue what to do with that statement_ , Richie thought, and, remembering his paper, he decided to speed things along.

“Hey, uh, Stan?” Richie said, reaching a hand up to rub against the back of his neck. For some reason this drew Stan’s gaze, sharp and, for lack of a better word, _hungry_?

“Yeah, Tozier?” Stan said.

“Why _are_ you here?” Richie asked, deciding to get right to the point. 

“Why do you think I’m here?” Stan said, voice soft.

“Well, I was gonna go with the whole maiming thing, and that’s kind of all I’ve got.” Richie said, shrugging. He waited, thinking Stan was going to reply, but Stan just stood there _looking at him_ , so Rich did what he did best - he started to ramble.

“Maybe you felt a burning desire to shape my dirty laundry into a pile so that you could jump in the middle of it and roll around? Like, as a kink thing?” Richie said, because in the short time that Stan had been there he had used his feet to move around the clothes so much that Richie could now see his entire floor.

“Nope” Stan said, tilting his head to the side and looking at Richie with a really goddamn disconcerting expression on his face. “That’s not it, either.”

Richie leaned back against the frame of the open door, not really knowing what to do next. He felt a strong urge to flee, for some reason. He was heavily geared towards flight when faced with being the sole recipient of all of Stan’s focused attention. _Is it hot in here, or is it just me_? Richie wondered weakly, gulping nervously. 

And Stan wouldn’t stop fucking _looking_ , his gaze sliding over Rich’s chest and flickering down to his sweats and back up again.

“Jeeze, dude,” Richie said, shifting uncomfortably. “Take a fucking picture, it’ll last longer.”

At that Stan laughed, head tossed back and grinning, showing quite a lot of teeth. Stan started walking towards him, and all of a sudden Richie didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Maybe I will,” Stan said, so quietly that Richie wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it. As he says it Stan stops right in front of Richie, close enough that Richie can feel his breath against his neck, and smell coffee and something else a bit more tangy. 

_What the fuck is happening?_ Richie wondered, wanting to take a step back and put more space between them, but unable to do so because he was already pressed against the door frame. _Is this when I die, did he decide against the maiming because it was the murder that he is planning on going with?_

Still steadily looking at him, Stan took one deliberate step back. Richie let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in and licked his lips. Stan’s gaze followed the movement and he growled, low in his throat. Reaching out, Stan grabbed a fistful of Richie’s shirt and yanked - trying to pull it up over his head.

“Hey!” Richie protested, even as he lifted up his arms and leaned forward to make taking the shirt off easier.

“Hey,” Stan echoed, a mocking edge to the word, tossing Richie’s shirt back to join the rest of his laundry pile. Stan cocked his head to the side and stared at Richie for a moment, and something flashed behind his eyes that Richie really wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with.

_What am I doing_? Richie wondered. 

But then Stan reached up and, trailing a hand along Richie’s clavicle, pulled back and flicked one of Richie’s nipples, intensely staring as it tensed up.

Richie hissed in a breath. 

“Uhm, Stan,” Richie choked out as Stan hummed and leaned forward to lick the nipple he had just flicked. “Not that I, ah, mind, but what the fuck is happening?”

For a second Stan didn’t speak, he just roughly laved at Richie’s skin and made a noise that shot straight to Richie’s dick.

“Tozier,” Stan said, sighing exasperatedly and dragging his eyes away from the wide and somewhat hairy expanse of Richie’s torso after biting down on the soft skin of his pec.

“Yeah?” Richie squeaked.

“Lock your fucking door and take off your pants,” Stan commanded.

“Okay,” Richie said.

___

This past week had been the longest of Stanley’s entire college career. He would say his whole life, but that seemed a bit dramatic. It all started last weekend when fucking Trashmouth Tozier was eyeing up Stanley’s baby like he wanted to devour Eddie whole. So Stan had taught him a lesson. Or, at least, in theory, that’s how it was _supposed_ to go. What it was _supposed_ to mean. In actuality - Stan wasn’t sure what had happened in that bathroom.

What he was sure of was that he had made a fatal mistake: Stan had let the scene play out in the bathroom he used to get ready for work every day. So now every time he went to shower or brush his teeth, he was reminded of the fucking debauched sight of Richie Tozier leaning back against his sink, face flushed and blissed out, hand working over his prick until he came all over himself with a muffled groan. It was getting _ridiculous_. At the start of the week Stan was only thinking about Richie’s dick while he was showering, but by Friday the thought of that thick and uncut cock was right there every fucking time he closed his damn eyes. It was driving Stan a little batshit. Which, by extension, meant that Stan was driving his boyfriend batshit.

Eddie had, of course, picked up on how things were right away. They’d actually had a really fun scene play out on Wednesday when Stan had stumbled home from work, exhausted and covered in various creamers and syrups. Eddie had followed him into the shower and given him a deliciously wet and dirty handjob while standing on tiptoe and talking about just exactly how _good_ he’d look for his daddy if he was split open on Tozier’s cock with Stan fucking his face. Stan had cum harder from that mental image than he would admit to in polite circles. Well, the somewhat-polite circles where you talked about orgasms, that is, which isn’t many. So, suffice it to say that Eddie was understanding and generous like always. Right up until he wasn’t.

Things came to a head on Friday night. 

_Date night_ , Stan thought, grinning and rinsing the rice for dinner. But then, of course, he blinked, and he flashed back to the vein that ran along the underside of Tozier’s cock and how red and swollen it looked right before Rich had come, and - _God fucking damn it,_ Stan thought, breaking the cycle and swallowing a mouthful of saliva, _get it together_.

 _Really though_ , Stan thought, putting the water on to boil, _it’s all Tozier’s fault_. _Who the fuck needs a dick that big?_ _It’s a crime against nature that a package that large is wasted on a person with a personality that disgusting._

Shaking his head, Stan looked up and over to where Eddie was dicing up bell peppers. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” Stan said, abruptly. 

Eddie frowned, looking from his cutting board over to Stan and then back again. Something in Stan’s expression must have given away what he was really upset about, because Eddie just sighed.

“Darling dearest,” Eddie began, rubbing his free hand against his forehead in exasperation. “Light of my life and fire of my loins-”

Stan raised a brow at that - _Lolita_ references were rare, coming from his baby. They normally signalled that Eddie was going to be a brat.

“I’m cutting up the vegetables the same way I have _every single time_ we’ve made stir fry since the ninth grade,” Eddie finished, the words pushed close together and huffed out all in one breath. 

“Then you’ve been doing it wrong since the ninth fucking grade, Edward,” Stan bit out, feeling a small bit of the tension coiled inside of him release with the angry words. 

Eddie stilled completely, and then carefully set down the knife, leaving the peppers and turning around to face Stan.

“Okay, I’m over this,” Eddie said, scowling fiercely, his arms folded across his chest.

“Over what?” Stan asked, trying to play dumb, hoping against hope that Eddie would just let it go. 

“Over the whole thing where you take your shitty mood out on me,” Eddie said, gesturing wildly outward with his hands. “It’s been going on _all week_ , and I’m _done_.”

Stan froze, thinking back, and realized to his chagrin that Eddie was right. He’d been picking fights with his baby all week, way more often than usual. 

He’d been a dick about the dishes, and the laundry, and the TV being too loud, and…. _Oh fuck_ , Stan thought, _I’ve been super shitty for days_. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Eddie held a hand out, clearly not yet finished speaking. Stan shut his mouth again, firmly. 

“It’s _stupid_ , Stanley,” Eddie went on, “because the solution is right in front of your fucking face. You clearly have something we both know that you want, no, apparently _need_ to do, and you aren’t just going and doing.” 

_Stanley? Ouch._ Stan thought, wincing _. I’ve been full named_. He sighed, trying his best to shove down all of the tension that he had building in his belly.

“I’m sorry.” Stan said, voice soft. “You’re right.”

“Yeah, you’ve been saying that after snapping at me for the past six days,” Eddie replied. He didn’t look like he forgave Stan yet, but he must have accepted that Stan was at least starting to get the point, because he turned around and loudly started chopping the peppers again. 

“It’s nothing,” Stan went on, trying to shrug it off. He went over to the counter and wrapped his arms around his baby, resting his chin on the top of Eddie’s head. “I’ll do better.”

“No.” Eddie said, his spine still stiff and his voice firm. 

“No?” Stan said, drawing out the word and spinning Eddie around, removing the knife from his hand and just _looking_ at his boy. 

Eddie flushed, biting his lip. A move that he _knew_ made Stan go wild.

“No, sir.” Eddie said, looking up from beneath his full lashes. 

Stan smiled, feeling like he was maybe going to be let off the hook. Eddie pulled back from Stan’s grip and went to grab the snap peas from the fridge, shaking his head and frowning again. 

“You’ve been a grumpy preoccupied shit for days,” Eddie said, bending and reaching into the vegetable crisper in a way that was far more erotic than it had any real need to be. “You need to go sort it out.”

Stan groaned. Eddie was right, but at what cost?

“But that means I have to disrupt date night,” Stan complained. “And drive to the dorms. And probably get a communicable disease from being in Tozier’s room.” 

_And get my mouth around that delicious uncut cock_ went unsaid, but from the way that Eddie stood up, smiled and shook his head, Stan was pretty sure his boyfriend knew exactly where his mind was at.

“Well then,” Eddie said, mood significantly lighter as he chopped the last of the veggies with dogged determination. “I suggest we finish up dinner and you get in your fucking car and drive to the dorms. And don’t touch anything that looks like it might be about to grow legs and crawl off.”

“Fine,” Stan said, huffing. “But if this doesn’t make things better, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Eddie said, sarcasm heavy in his voice. 

_Little brat._

“Baby,” Stan said, voice low. “Don’t push me.” 

___

 _“Lock your fucking door and take off your pants.”_

The words echoed in Richie’s head on a loop. He couldn’t think of a single other time in his life where he closed and locked a door this quickly. But then he turned around and realized that, _oh yeah_ , he had only fulfilled half of the things that were asked of him. 

Reaching down, he grabbed hold of his sweats at the waist and quickly pushed them to the floor, some lucky fucking god on the side of him getting sexed up letting him step out of the offending fabric without stumbling too badly. 

“Not even wearing boxers,” Stan hissed, his eyes going dark. “What a _whore_.”

“‘M sorry?” Richie said as he tilted his head to the side, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Stan just rolled his eyes.

“Get the fuck over here,” Stan said, snapping his fingers at Richie. 

_I take offense to that_ , Richie thought. _I’m not a dog._ But even as he thought it he found himself moving towards Stan. And when he opened his mouth, all that came out was -

“Okay,” Richie said, crossing the room on shaking legs. _Okay? Jesus, Rich, is that the only word you know?_

The closer he got to where Stan was waiting, the more Richie felt the blood rush from his head down to his dick. 

_Which might have something to do with the fact that Stan is staring at my crotch like a starving man looking at a five-course meal,_ Richie thought, a bit hysterically. 

Richie knew he was _big_ , but like, not a single one of the limited number of people who had been up close and personal with his dick before had ever looked at him quite like _that_.

 _So like, maybe I shouldn’t have been worried about getting maimed_ , Richie thought as he stumbled to a stop directly in front of Stan. _Maybe I should be more concerned about getting eaten._

Stan didn’t alleviate Richie’s worries when he let out a low moan and dropped to his knees, hands reaching out to grab a firm hold of Richie’s hips, keeping him still as Stan nosed along the base of Richie’s cock. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Richie breathed out, feeling his balls twitch as his cock hardened completely. 

“Why the _fuck_ is your cock this big?” Stan muttered, sounding genuinely angry. “How could you possibly even _need_ all this?” 

Stan leaned forward and licked up the vein that ran along Richie’s entire length, making Richie whimper and lose the ability to speak. 

Stan didn’t seem to have the same problem.

“I’ve been thinking about this fucking cock all week,” Stan ground out, dragging his eyes from the cock in question to glare up at Richie before biting him right at the juncture of his hip and thigh. 

“Couldn’t get it out of my goddamn mind.” Stan went on, soothing the skin he had bit with a wet kiss.

Richie’s brain was static, but it was that statement that convinced him that this was real life. Because he could _never_ have imagined Stan saying anything like what was currently falling out of his mouth as he ran his thumb along the tip of Richie’s dick, collecting precum and using his fist to smear it down his length in an achingly slow pull that didn’t let up until his hand was nestled at the base. 

“Bigger than I thought now that my hand is _finally_ around it,” Stan said, voice low enough that Richie was pretty sure it wasn’t meant to be heard by human ears.

“Can’t wait to feel it in my throat,” Stan went on, placing a wet and dirty kiss to the head before taking it into his mouth and doing something fucking illegal with his tongue. 

Richie let out a moan, along with the breath that he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

 _Yeah, this is real life_ , Richie thought. _Maybe it is life to the left of what I know to be real, but no wet dream could be this….._ **_detailed_ ** _._

“Oh my god, how the _fuck_ is this real,” Richie said. “You’re like something out of a godamn porno right now, Staniel.”

Stan pulled off of his dick with a glare. Richie whimpered at the loss of the heat and pressure.

“Stop _talking_ ,” Stan said, his lips flushed and already a bit swollen. “You’re ruining it.”

Stan emphasized the statement by pulling one of his hands away from where they were tightly gripping Richie’s hips to swat at his naked ass. 

_Rude_ , Richie thought. But like, if silence was the price he had to pay to get that mouth back where he really needed it to be, he would be silent. So he mimed zipping his lips shut and throwing the key over his shoulder.

“Jesus _fuck_ you’re annoying,” Stan said. But then he started to move his mouth down again, so Richie figured he wasn’t _that_ annoying. 

“A waste of a beautiful dick, really,” Stan went on, now very clearly talking to Richie’s groin instead of his face. “What was God _thinking_ , giving it to such a _trashbag_.”

Stan followed up this egregious insult by sucking Richie’s cock into his mouth deep enough that Richie felt it hit the back of the other man’s throat, and it felt so fucking _good_ that Richie decided to let the comment slip.

Then Stan let out a _sound_ . It was deep and rather delicious, and while Richie had thought that he had been as hard as he could get before, he was pretty sure he got even thicker at the noise. It was the type of moan that people let out when they are in the middle of devouring a decadent chocolate dessert, and Richie’s mind left his body for a moment as he accepted that Stan was making that sound about _him_. Well, a part of him, at least.

Without thinking about it, one of Richie’s hands left his side and went to rest on Stan’s head, fingers digging in just a bit. Stan literally growled and pulled off yet again, looking up at Richie as though he’d never before witnessed such stupidity, his bright blue eyes sparking with rage. 

“Richard,” Stan said, his voice already a little fucked, in the way that only comes after someone has had a cock deep down their throat. 

“I’m only going to tell you this once,” Stan continued, reaching up and firmly removing Richie’s hand from where it had landed. “If you _touch_ me, and I mean, if you lay _one single finger_ anywhere on my person, I’ll stop.”

 _Holy shit,_ Richie thought, _that shouldn’t be as hot as it is._ But even as he nodded his understanding and Stan once more went back to sucking his soul out through his dick, Richie wasn’t sure that he believed him.

__

 _Fucking finally,_ Stan thought, his mouth around Richie’s cock, the heavy and salty flavor of precum bursting on his tongue. Stan swallowed, letting the motion naturally pull Richie into his mouth further. _If only I could remove the dick from the man, then this would be perfect_.

Sadly, there are sacrifices we all must make in life, and this was one Stan was willing to subject himself to. As he felt the hot pulse of Richie on his tongue, Stan tightened his knees closer together for the increase in pressure. He just wished that he had a third hand so that he could reach down and adjust himself; he was unwilling to let go of Tozier’s hips in case it gave the other man _ideas_. 

Taking Richie as far down his throat as he could without any warmup, Stan couldn’t help but let out a moan. _Just as good as I imagined it would be, if not better._

__

Richie was trying to hold it together. First of all, he didn’t want to cum embarrassingly quickly, because he was certain that Stan would never let him forget it. On top of that, it was getting harder and harder to remember that he wasn’t supposed to talk or touch with each hot pull of Stan’s wickedly talented mouth. 

Stan was clearly really good at this. In fact, if someone was handing out awards for fellatio, Richie would be the first to write a goddamn letter of recommendation for this man. 

But it was like Stan was _resisting_ , somehow. The swirling of his tongue was great, but - it was practiced, clinical. Looking surreptitiously down, Richie could see that Stan was hard in his jeans. That, coupled with the fact that Stan didn’t seem to be able to go longer than ten seconds without letting out some kind of filthy noise, let Richie know that Stan was having a good time. But still, something was _missing_. 

When Stan finally broke down enough to take one of his hands away from Richie’s hips so he could deal with his own erection, Richie took it as a sign. 

Without overthinking it, Richie reached forward and grabbed a handful of curls in one hand, using the other to grab hold of Stan’s jaw.

Stan tensed and looked up at him - but he didn’t pull away. 

_God, you’re beautiful,_ Richie thought. 

He smiled, running his finger along the curve of Stan’s neck before gently, _ever so gently_ , sliding his cock just a bit deeper into Stan’s throat.

Stan choked, shuddered, and let out a whimper before his free hand pressed harder at his tented pants. Richie watched with an amazed expression as Stan shifted from side to side. 

“Oh,” Richie said, feeling like everything was clicking into place. 

“ _Ooooh_ ,” Richie repeated, dragging the word out. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

Richie realized that it would be hard for Stan to answer in his current position, so he used the pressure of his hand in Stan’s hair to pull Stan off of his dick with a wet pop, watching the thick line of saliva trail from his red and aching cockhead to Stan’s puffy lips. 

Stan just _sat_ there on his knees, panting. One hand was still loosely gripping Richie around his hip and the other was working at the button of his jeans.

“I _said_ ,” Richie went on, voice sounding strangely harsh in the almost silent room, “you _liked_ that, _didn’t_ you?” 

Stan sucked in a shuddering breath and bit his lip, but then ( _thank the fucking lord of every single religion that ever is or was_ ), he nodded.

“I thought so,” Richie said, smiling. “So why don’t we do things my way, _hmm_?” 

Stan let out a gasp, his hand sliding into his pants. And even though Richie couldn’t see, it was clear that he was tugging at his dick, his pupils almost completely dilated.

“Okay,” Richie went on, trying to stop from sounding too smug as he took two of his fingers and gently pushed them into Stan’s mouth.

“It’s okay to like it, you know,” Richie added, almost as an afterthought.

Stan sighed and started sucking on Richie’s fingers. In a single moment, Richie watched as the last of the weird tension he had noticed earlier disappeared. 

_Fucking gorgeous._

“So why don’t you tug your pants down for me?” Richie asked, trying to delicately straddle the line between suggestion and command. “It’d free up your cock.”

Stan stilled, and for a second Richie thought that he had pushed too far. _Shit_. 

But then - _Stan did it_. Richie felt something dark coil in his abdomen as he watched Stan push his jeans far enough down his legs so that his dick could spring free.

“Pretty,” Richie breathed out, taking a moment to just _look_.

Stan shifted a bit under his gaze, and Richie felt a moment of righteous vindication at turning the tables around. _The looker has become the lookee!_

“Okay then,” Rich said, breaking the silence as soon as he felt like the time was right. His voice was a fuck of a lot calmer than Richie thought he had it in him to be.

“I’m going to fuck your face now.”

Stan responded by letting out a keening moan, his eyes fluttering shut.

“And Stanley -” Richie’s hand tightened in Stan’s hair, tugging at it until Stan let out another delicious little sound and his eyes flew open. 

“If you don’t keep your teeth clear,” Richie pulled his fingers most of the way out of Stan’s mouth, leaving them resting on his bottom lip before softly applying enough pressure to open up Stan’s mouth further. 

“If you don’t take what I’m going to give you like a good bitch…” Richie let his voice trail off for a second, thinking back to the weekend before and breaking out in a gigantic grin. _Time for a callback._

“If you’re not a ‘good little cockwhore’ the entire time I’m using your throat - I’ll stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment if you enjoyed - i'm as big of a slut for validation as stan is for the feel of richie's big fat cock on his tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks go to bimmyshrug, blueeyedrichie and sunnygaybitch for ideas and cheering me on, also my poetry wife (she knows who she is) for beta reading smutty fic for a fandom she doesn't even go to. 
> 
> hmu on tumblr @losers-to-lovers with your thoughts about where to take the story next
> 
> and as always - just let me know if i should tag something i didn't, but please don't be a dick about it


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